DragonAge The Plight of the King
by Kida-Motou
Summary: "Men are never free from sin."
1. Chapter 1

_The rain outside was pelting against the hard rock and brimstone around the Grey Wardens lead by the last of the Couslands, Castor, surrounded by his team of drunks, rogues, bastards, and mages. Beside him stood his closest friend, Alistair, who looked down into the cave and grinned. "Well, sure could use those Griffons now, eh Castor?"_

_Castor grinned in response as he looked to Alistair before staring down, his face hardening. The army of darkspawn was moving, leading miles and miles into the black abyss. Below their feet, the earth quaked from the stomping a few miles down, and they all felt a deep chill in their spines as a unearthly screech from the arch demon rose with the steam. He turned to the army that they had assembled, drawing his family sword and driving it into the stone. This was it. This was their stand. He looked to Alistair and smiled, a bit of a creepy smile in Alistair's mind, like it was all a game. "Are you ready?"_

"_Ready as I'll ever be."_

_Slinging his two-handed Greatsword over his shoulder, Castor walked to the doors of the dwarves kingdom, pushing them open with force, and stepping into the darkness._

Jerking awake, Alistair found himself covered in sweat, freezing and boiling at the same time. Panting, he looked around, half expecting to still be in camp, tucked into a drafty tent, half expecting death at any moment. But it wasn't the case. He was home, in the grand bedroom beneath silken sheets and surrounded by light. The curtains from the gigantic windows surrounding his enormous bed had been pulled open, probably by the servant elves. His eyes closed as he laid back, not bothering to look to his side to see if his queen was still there, the last night she had spent with him was the night they were married, and it was not a pleasant experience. She preferred the company of the other men of the castle to him, but she so enjoyed the title.

Alistair hadn't really minded, Kahra had been more picked out for him then anything else, a fair woman of good standing amongst the people, beautiful, keen, but completely and totally wrong for him. She lacked fire, she lacked flair, everything was done for her and she had never had to fight for anything in her life. Plus she was more, for lack of a more polite word, open in the bedroom then he was. She was far from a virgin when they had met, and obviously she had not changed her ways. And frankly, she had been much more then offended when he had requested that they not have sex on the night of their marriage, but to save face, she had stayed with him. The first and the last time. But it was something that Alistair really wasn't willing to fight for. Frankly, he had done enough fighting for awhile, touching his hand to the scars across his chest as he stood, the sheets falling behind him as he began to get dressed.

Four years it had been since the victory against the arch demon, against the darkspawn. Peace, or as much peace as could be expected from people, had fallen across the land, and Alistair had come to find that his job as King was quite easy. Sure, sometimes he had to help decide the fate of a major criminal or maybe send one of his knights to Castor, who was working with the mages to rebuild the Grey Wardens. Many, such as the families of said knights, often questioned the point of creating more, as the arch demon had been destroyed. Alistair hadn't minded the questioning, and often answered the same way. "It never hurts to be on the safe side."

Deep down, Alistair missed the battles, the excitement of the preparation against the greatest threat the world had ever known. As he stepped out onto the veranda, leaning up against the railing and looking out over the land he had fought so valiantly over. Was this all there was? A loveless marriage, days often spent wandering the gardens or slipping into the old war rooms, extravagant dinners often spent alone? No, this was not what he had fought for. Alistair dreamt of love, of raising his heirs (although it still felt weird to call children that. Heirs. Airs.) and of one day journeying through the land like they had before, maybe even going to somewhere foreign and new, like Orlais or Antiva. He smiled as a familiar sight crept into sight. Without another moment's waste, he jolted down to the entrance of his castle, opening his arms as he smiled. "Oy, funny meeting you here."

A man with dark hair turned to him, smiling behind a five o'clock shadow. "Alistair! I must have missed the trumpets and the red carpet rolling out." He met the King in a brotherly embrace, stepping back and grinning. "By the Maker, old boy, what exactly are they feeding you here? I can hardly put my arms around you!"

Alistair laughed, having spent most of his days in the training arena and exercising, knowing that his best friend was joking. "Far too much, I'm afraid, but perhaps they can find a cow or two to prepare for a guest?"

"Let's hope so!"

* * *

After a few hours of spending quality time together, eating and drinking probably a little too much, Alistair leaned back in his chair, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Ah, Cas, it's been too long, my friend." Suddenly, a question that had been lurking in the back of his mind but had been pushed aside began to rise to the surface again. Alistair looked to his friend, furrowing his brow. "I, I hope you don't mind my asking, Castor, but what exactly does bring you here?"

He closed his eyes and set down his mug, shaking his head. "Well, as you know, since we haven't had a darkspawn threat, I've been ordering the Grey Wardens to assist some of the locals with odd jobs. Now for the most part, we haven't had much of a problem but there's, well, there's one that's just sticking out in my mind." He looked to Alistair and nodded. "It's probably nothing, but you did tell me to let you know if anything strange caught my eye. I figured I could take down a few men-"

"I'm going with you."

Castor blinked, looking up to Alistair. "You don't even know what's going on yet. Besides, don't you have to stay up here? I would imagine that the King of Ferelden has more important things to do then chase local legends with a washed up army."

Alistair stood, setting his hands on the table and leaning over. "If it's worrisome enough for you to travel all the way here, then it's something I think I should look into myself, especially if you think you're going to need a few men. Besides that, look around you." Alistair straightened and gestured around the quiet castle. "This, well, this doesn't require my immediate attention. Whatever you have going on is more important. Now, follow me, I have a feeling I'll need my armor."

While he grabbed a few things, Castor informed him about the goings on. A few animals had gone missing for a few days and if they did return, they often died within a few days. Not pretty deaths either, usually crying out in pain as if they were on fire or something. Most farmers had assumed some kind of disease but they had requested an intervention by the Grey Wardens.

For the most part, it seemed like a very run-of-the-mill request, nothing too spectacular. But, if something seemed to be calling to Castor, then it definitely needed Alistair's touch added in. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, it was easy for Alistair to leave on such short notice. As a courtesy, he had informed his wife who had responded with absolutely no interest. His advisors would make group decisions on any matters that came up, if any. Before sunset, he and the Grey Warden were leaving the city, a few soldiers following behind them. Of course, it wasn't exactly like it had been before, the women weren't there, and Alistair almost missed Zevran's quips. He made a mental note to write his old companions.

Alstair kept his eyes on his colleague; he had seemed happy that he was coming along, but now seemed hardened. It was a look that, even after four long years, Alistair recognized without hesitation. This mission really had planted some worry in his heart, and that was something that the King had learned to trust wholeheartedly. Despite the fact that he was still a higher rank, Alistair still found it wise to trust in the Grey Warden's gut feelings and leadership. When he had been crowned, Alistair had offered Castor a chance to be his head advisor, but they both had known that one of them needed to rebuild the Wardens. So, he had politely declined, and returned to the west with a few mages to begin the long process of rebuilding.

It didn't take a very long time for them to be stationed in the south, nor did it take long for Alistair to see why Castor had been so concerned. The call had been made from a small new settlement between Lothering and the Korcari Wilds called Halais. It was a small place, just a quaint little settlement mostly made up of farmers and a few tradesmen. The general store was no bigger then a shack, probably only containing a few supplies, and the smell of livestock was everywhere. Because of their fear, most of the people had been staying in their home, unsure if they too could catch the disease, and recent reinforcements had been made to the fences surrounding their animals. After talking to a few of the farmers, Alistair recognized the pit in his stomach was what Castor had been feeling all along. It sounded so familiar, what had happened so many years ago that brought his older brother Cailan to Ostagar. But that couldn't be. The darkspawn were gone, the arch demon defeated, and there had been no sight nor sound of anything like it happening in years. It probably was just a disease, right?

After speaking to a few farmers, the Warden turned to Alistair, who looked as if he might pass out. "Are you alright, mate?"

Alistair shook his head, lifting his palm to his forehead and squeezing slightly, as if to relieve pressure. His eyes slowly closed as he murmured, "We need to get the rest of the Wardens down here, my friend. I'm hoping we're wrong, I'm hoping that this feeling is wrong. But this isn't something I'm willing to risk." He turned, looking up at the sky before closing his eyes. "Get them here."

Castor frowned, the spark behind his eyes dimming, watching one of his closest friends feel the ball drop as he had felt. He crossed his arms, letting out a long sigh. "I was hoping that you wouldn't have reacted. When did you start to feel it?"

"The moment we stepped past Lothering."

He nodded slightly before raising his hand, gesturing over one of the soldiers that Alistair had brought along. Castor nodded to him, muttering. "Head West to Redcliffe, alert the Wardens that their assistance is needed in Halais, by order of King Alistair." Alistair said nothing, listening to the dreaded order as it was given. And with a slight nod and a grunt, he added, "And, for the love of the Maker, be quick about it."

* * *

Shortly after their arrival, everything that they had feared was becoming reality. It only took about three days for the fourteen newest Wardens to arrive along with a few hundred Redcliffe soldiers, provided by Alistair's uncle, along with a message that neighboring teryns had been notified and would begin to march to Halais. Despite that, the darkspawn threat had exploded, and the battles had begun. Just as before, slow at first, but more and more darkspawn appeared each day, and it was heart wrenching to Alistair. The people of Halais had been advised to evacuate and not a moment too soon, and unfortunately, the forces had been pushed back until the reinforcements had arrived. His personal army would be arriving within a day or two, the teyrns would be ready at arms within the fortnight, and his Wardens had been doing very well on their own. Against his will, he had been forced to stay on their base, which had been pushed back to the Brecilian Passage, as no other heirs had been born yet and another civil war was not about to be risked. Alistair had not been fighting, and he felt useless and bored.

As a formality, Castor had suggested that Alistair should take a few men and journey to the Dalish camp in the Brecilian forest to alert them of the impending danger, and to see if they could spare a few men. The threat wasn't great yet, even though the numbers of the darkspawn were growing, it was hardly even an army yet. The Wardens and the soldiers were well trained, and took out all that they saw with ease. But, unlike his late brother, Alistair knew how bad it could get and how fast. And even though he knew it was a ploy to get him away from the battlefield, he knew how necessary it was.

That morning, Alistair and his two soldiers had left for the Dalish encampment that they had ventured to so many years ago. Castor had left in good standing with them when the war was over, and he was sure that they would be willing to help again. It was a good day's journey away, and it left Alistair with a lot of time to think. How had the darkspawn come back? The arch demon was gone, of that he was sure, and they had pushed back the remaining darkspawn back into the Deep Roads. At once, a thousand possibilities ran through his mind, each more ridiculous then it's predecessor. Alistair finally concluded that his answers would rise to the surface in time, not unlike the darkspawn that he had left in his tracks.

It was hard not to notice the beauty of the forest while they traveled. It was spring, a beautiful time of year for all of Ferelden but particularly of the Brecilian Forest. The trees and bushes were in bloom, and the morning dew still hung on the blades of grass beneath their feet. The normally bitter wind now had a touch of warmth, a promise of a summer to come. Yet, despite it all, something felt off. The birds above were not singing, and the bugs and tree frogs that had been singing him to sleep for days could no longer be heard. How long had it been so quiet? Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong. Alistair began to feel a tightness in his stomach, but it came too late as he realized that they were walking into an ambush.

The headache had been a hindrance to his senses, he couldn't tell that no fewer then a dozen darkspawn had surrounded them. The first four had been no trouble to him, Genlocks, mostly, but his soldiers were archers, and they did not last long against the crowd. It took all of Alistair's might and will to bring them down. Unfortunately, for all his training, it had been too long since he had last raised his shield to such a crowd as his hand fell to his stomach, a long slash from his upper chest to his opposing side had hurt him considerably. Of course, the darkspawn taint had no effect on him, but he could feel the warmth of his body leaving him as blood began to pool near his feet. The gash went deeply, his vision was going dark. His shield dropped like a stone from his arm as the strength drained from him, a few final thoughts crossing his weakening mind. Was this to be the end of the great Alistair? King of Ferelden and oldest remaining Grey Warden?

As he fell to his knees, that answer almost seemed to be answered for him as a growl came from behind him. His heavy eyes lifted as a Hurlock hurdled towards him, weapon drawn for the final blow. With whatever strength he could muster, Alistair lifted his sword, trying to prop himself against it to stand but it seemed to be too late. The Hurlock raised his ghastly weapon and cried out in an extremely feminine voice. With confusion, Alistair looked up to see a tan shape leap from a high tree branch above the Hurlock's head, and Alistair jumped slightly as blood splattered onto his face.

As the Hurlock fell, so did Alistair. He could barely see his rescuer. All he saw was a flash of red hair before the lights went dim.


	2. Chapter 2

_It was sunrise, a beautiful morning to another beautiful spring day. Alistair smiled as he stretched out from his bed of hay, leaving a few sticks in his messy bedhead. Finally, after another whole year, it was his tenth birthday. As he placed his hands on his hips, he looked around proudly at the land that laid before him. Alistair had been considered a baby all his life but no more, today he was a man. And he was ready to take on the world._

_After terrorizing the guards and a few of the cats that lingered about Redcliffe, Alistair had been sought by one of the castle maids, requesting his attendance. Alistair agreed happily, scampering to the castle to receive his birthday present from the Arl. As he entered the main hall, he stood before his uncle, smiling a missing-toothed grin. "Oh for the love of-look at the state of you, boy." muttered the Arl, shaking his head as Alistair reached up to pull leaves and hay from his hair. "Alistair, this is Lucius, head of the Templars at the Mage's Tower."_

_Alistair looked to the man in the shiny uniform but had said nothing. _

_The Arl frowned slightly. "It is time that you take your place in life, Alistair, and about time you learned some discipline. The Templars can give that to you. It's been decided that you will live and train under their guidance."_

"_Wh-What?"_

_The Arl nodded slowly before bowing his head. "Goodbye, Alistair."_

"Seems to be getting a little color back in his face, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, I guess he does. How much longer do you think he'll be out?"

"Mm, I can't tell you that, child. The fact that he isn't dead from the taint is a miracle alone."

His eyes remained closed a few moments as he tried to piece together what was real and what was dream. He was not being sent to the Templars, he was not ten. Two voices surrounded him, one a much older woman then the other. As panic rose in his chest, Alistair jerked upward, his eyes burning as he almost knocked into a much older looking woman who sat at his bedside. Before he could take in his surroundings, she pushed him back on the bed, shouting. "Stay down, you dumb bloke, you'll tear the stitches open again!"

In a daze, he tried to focus on the old woman who was surprisingly strong for her age. Alistair was sweating profusely, still unsure of what was dream and what was reality. That was until ragged pain ran through him and caused him to cry out, looking down at the long gash neatly stitched down his chest. His hand clutched the wound as he began to shout "What's going on? Who are you?"

The old woman frowned, tilting her head at the boy. "Oh hush, being shouty is only going to give us all a headache. Now which would you like to know first, who I am or what is going on?"

Alistair's eyes narrowed as he grumbled. "Surprise me."

The old woman smiled slightly. "Lovely, I so cherish surprises myself. You were attacked, you and two men, by darkspawn. The others, well, they didn't make it. We had a very rough go of it trying to make sure that you did, I'll have you know." she pointed a gnarled finger at him as though this was his fault in some way, very much like a scolding grandmother. "As for the other question, my name is Elora. And, uh, you've already met Noelle."

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to remember, looking around the old woman to see a beautiful young woman standing behind her. She had deep red hair, icy blue eyes, and a huge bow slung over her back. Her facial tattoos suggested elven? No, she was too tall to be elven, she probably came up to about his chin, had he been standing. "You? I remember you. Well, vaguely."

Noelle glanced to the old woman, raising her eyebrow. "Guess that answers that question doesn't it?" She stepped over to him and leaned down, getting a good look at him. "What exactly was a human doing in the Brecilian Forest?"

Alistair groaned, closing his eyes for a moment from pain. "To-To seek help. Because of the darkspawn."

She shook her head, straightening herself up. "I'll bet you were. You're going to need it."

As she turned to walk away out of what seemed to be a tent, Alistair looked up at the old woman for support, but she just laughed, looking down at the boy. "Do not take Noelle too close to heart, boy, her bark is, well actually, it's about as bad as her bite. She just has a bit of trouble with humans. The fact that she tried to save you at all is remarkable."

Alistair blinked a few times before settling back in to finish his rest. She had trouble trusting humans did she? But wait, she wasn't human herself?

It took more then seven days before Alistair was well enough to move about freely. His chest, due to his stubbornness not to lie still in bed, was wrapped in thick bandages. But every few hours, he made sure he was back in bed, as the old elf would pinch and smack him in the back of the head until he got back in. But for quite some time, she hadn't shown up. Other then when she brought in his breakfast, she hadn't shown up at all, and it was nearly dusk. As a habit, he reached over and lit a lamp as the flap of the tent lifted.

His eyebrows furrowed as Noelle sat beside him, holding a crude bowl made of wood. One thing that could be said of this group of Dalish, they were highly skilled woodworkers. Apparently, he had not hidden his surprise well as she raised her eyebrow to him, setting down the bowl on the table beside the bed. "I take it you were not expecting to see me? No, of course you weren't." she shook her head at the rather stupid question, beginning to light the other candles in the lantern.

"What happened to Elora?" he asked, looking up at her. He hadn't noticed it before, but she had very fine features. Her eyes were a bright blue, her lips were pursed and just a hint of pink, and her hair; now that her hair was down, he could see it was long, probably shoulder length, and she had put it in braids instead of her usually messy bun. She also had a tattoo, one he had not seen before, it looked almost like an angel upon her forehead, however it was very light, and would be almost invisible under certain lighting. Her eyes looked slightly downturned, and had an understanding behind them, a woman having seen too much in her short life.

She looked to him questioningly for a moment before shaking her head. "Elora?" she blinked, rather surprised apparently that he had managed to remember the old elf's name. Shaking her head, she frowned. "She is quite busy healing our sick." she handed him the bowl, which thankfully broke the stare that he had held on her since she had walked in. As he devoured the mushy but flavorful food, she looked down to him. "Whenever the darkspawn become too many in number, there is usually a rising in the south. I'm not entirely sure why, I don't think anyone truly is, but it was true with the last Blight and it is true with the uprising now." she spoke sadly, but softly, so that no other could hear. "At any rate, Dalish often become sick during these times. Some say it's because we are so closely knit with nature, that as nature is being overwhelmed and destroyed, that we feel the same effects. Others feel that it may be that we live too close for too long near them that their taint begins to absorb into us, like water into the ground." she frowned, closing her eyes. "Nearly ten of our best hunters have fallen ill. Elora and the other healers are busy with them and, until further notice, you are in my care."

Alistair frowned, wondering if she had lost someone to this illness but figured it would be best not to ask. This was really the first time they had spoken, other then when he had been brought in, and over the course of time, he had learned when it would be best to hold his tongue. He sat up slightly and winced, feeling her hand on his upper chest as she pushed him back down. Alistair made a face but stayed down. "You said your hunters have been the ones who've fallen ill, right? Was it the same during the Blight?"

She nodded slightly. "Yes, it was the same," her eyes fell to the floor before they closed. "So many of our numbers dwindled, the hunters from the illness, the others from starvation." Sighing, she looked to the empty bowl and stood, looking back to him. "I'll be back to check on you in a few hours, when the sleep medicine I put in your food wears off."

"The what-?" he shouted before yawning, laying back against the soft furs that made up his bed and grumbling. "I'll sleep when I want to."

* * *

As the days went on, Alistair began to expect Noelle to see that his chest was healing properly. In the morning, her hair was often up, placed in a bun to keep her hair from her eyes before her daily hunts. At night, she always seemed to look tired, worn down by the increasingly difficult task laid before her. With each day, more hunters fell ill, and soon the apprentices began to fall, having taken the place of the others. One morning, Alistair awoke to the sound of a familiar, yet unexpected voice. "Well well well, she didn't kill you after all."

He opened his eyes and sat up, seeing the old elf Elora before him. For a few moments, he was speechless, and stared at her before words came back to him. "I, I apologize, dear lady, I did not expect to see you here." His eyes widened. "Noelle. Is she sick?"

Elora raised her eyebrows that the boy somehow remembered the young huntress' name, as he was only told it once when he was half delirious. "Of course, Noelle is fine. She had to leave earlier then usual to find more healing herbs and lead the hunt with some of the capable apprentices, Creator watch over them." Elora looked down to his relieved expression and raised her eyebrow. "Do not fear, young man, she'll be in to look over you tonight."

Alistair still, despite all his years, had not learned to control his facial expressions. Even worse, his blushing. "I-I didn't mean anything by it, my lady. I was only concerned."

Elora laughed, standing up and gathering a few medical supplies from his tent. "Do not worry, child, I know very well what your concern is. At any rate, your stitches can be removed, and you'll be suited to leave in just a few more days."

Alistair touched the thick stitches on his chest before looking up to her, pausing for a moment as he thought. He had been gone from the Wardens for no fewer then two weeks, and the situation here seemed far more dire. Having not have sensed any arch demon as of yet, the other Wardens could certainly take care of a few darkspawn themselves. "Suited to leave? What do you mean?"

Elora tilted her head, looking back at the young man with a look of utter confusion. "Suited to leave, return to your people. I'm certain you weren't planning on staying here with the Dalish, Warden."

"You knew I was a Warden? For how long? Why didn't you say something?"

"From the moment Noelle brought you in?" her eyebrow raised, crossing her hands across her chest. "As for not bringing it up, it seemed inappropriate to ask you about the blood in your veins while I was trying to keep it in your body. Aside from that, I figured you would have mentioned it by now. Of course, considering that the injury from a tainted sword did not kill you was a bit of a giveaway. However, I am curious, what exactly were you planning on doing when you got better?" she shifted from one foot to the other, holding the heavy medical supplies as Alistair stood, much to her surprise, and took them from her. Gesturing out, he followed her, bare chested and wearing only a pair of cloth pants, towards the ill hunters. "Surely you can't still be expecting much help from us."

Alistair shrugged, holding out his arms, allowing Elora and the other healers to take what they needed. He frowned as the numerous hunters groaned, clutching their stomachs and rolling in agony. It was a mild form of the taint, he was sure of it, and as the numbers had grown, he could even sense them from his tent some ways away. As the healers began to work, Alistair shook his head. "The Wardens can do without one of their own for awhile, it seems more help could be used around here. So far, no arch demon has been spotted and we've gotten word out to our reinforcements in Antiva and Orlais. I won't be missed." He paused, looking up towards the sky and inhaling deeply. "Elora, tell me about Noelle?"

The old woman stopped dead in her tracks before continuing on as though nothing had happened. Of course, Alistair had noticed her freeze, and almost wished he had taken back what he had asked. There was a moment of silence that seemed to last too long before the old healer straightened herself. "It really isn't my place to tell you, dear. But I know she's a stubborn git and probably wouldn't tell you much even if you asked. What is it you want to know?"

"I, wow I didn't expect you to actually agree. Uhm, I guess," he stuttered, trying to actually think of a decent question, "you said flat out when I first came to that she held a very distinct hatred of humans. Why is that?"

Elora sighed, handing over her medical supplies to another healer, setting her hand on Alistair's arm while she guided him back to his tent. "Of course, you would ask the most complicated question possible, wouldn't you?" she shook her head, bringing him inside. "That, my dear, is truly not my place to tell. However, I can tell you a little about her, I suppose." Elora sat on a chair near his bedside while Alistair sat on the side of his bed, listening intently. "Noelle came to us when she was nine years of age. She was, well, in rather rough shape, poor girl, and was sent straight to me. I was Keeper then, and had the strongest healing magic. However, even so, it took many months for her to become healthy enough to manage on her own." She smiled slightly. "I remember when I first heard her speak, such a stubborn thing. We called her Sarn then, means 'small stone' in our language, for she wouldn't speak." she chuckled, "and I scolded her "Sarn! You must rest so you may heal properly!" and here she turned, this little twig of a thing, with the most furious look on her face and she shouted back to me "My name is NOELLE, and I have rested enough!"

Alistair stayed silent, watching the old woman tell the story with such fondness. As she told her story, more questions then answers crawled into his mind. What had happened to her parents? Was she truly elven? Why did she have such a powerful hatred of humans? Questions he would not yet ask as she continued.

"-saw too much of myself in her I suppose, and took her in as my own child. Of course, my daughter Merena didn't approve, but she was always the more sensible child. Noelle was a bit of a risk taker, a bit too mouthy as well-"

Why had she saved him? Why had she chosen him?

"-and finally I passed down the title of Keeper to Merena after the Blight was over. You'd think almost losing her younger sister would bring them closer together, but it seemed to drive them more apart. Now Noelle is our eldest living hunter."

Alistair shook his head as the last of her words flowed into his ears, feeling himself perk up. " 'Lose her sister?' You mean Noelle?"

Elora shook her head before she stood, glancing outside. "It is nearly dusk, I should be going. Noelle will be back soon and I need to return to the hunters."

Alistair sat upright and frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. "Oh, please, you mustn't leave now! There are so many more questions I have."

"Questions whose answers can wait. You need your rest, and I have others that demand my attention." Elora mumbled, stepping outside the tent without another word.

* * *

Alistair awoke, what could only have been a few hours after Elora had shared her story with him, to the sound of Noelle and another woman fighting outside his tent. Curious as Alistair was, he positioned his head just right so he could see between the flaps, immediately recognizing the red haired maiden as Noelle, but could not place where he had seen the other before it hit him. The slightly shorter brunette was a spitting image of what Elora would have looked like some decades before. This, he thought, must be Keeper Merena.

"-guess I'm not entirely sure what the problem is here, Merena."

"It is Keeper, Noelle, and you'd do well to remember it. I realize that Mother is entertaining the idea of your new pet-" she practically spit the last word, "but I think it is dangerous to have a human amongst us."

Noelle shifted her weight onto one foot, clasping a bowl in her hand that Alistair's stomach growled to in response. Her tone shifted as she did, growing significantly more irritated as she spoke. "Yes, _Merena_, and I suppose I'm just to let an injured man make his way, alone, through a darkspawn-filled forest, is that it? Yes, brilliant idea, next let's send off our dying hunters so they can be finished off as well. Maybe you aught to use that swollen head of yours to wrap around something other then a title Elora GAVE to you."

Alistair had to hold back a chuckle as he watched, the smaller elf looking as if she might strangle the red from her hair, anger she managed to spit through clenched teeth. "Get rid of him, Noelle."

Noelle scoffed before turning towards the tent, opening the flap as Alistair readjusted his head to make it seem as though he hadn't been watching the conversation. He took the bowl as she took a look over his chest. "You look as you're about ready to have your stitches out."

"So I've heard. About two weeks, your mother said."

Noelle paused for a moment, taking a hard look at him as his mouth clamped shut, realizing what he said. His mind swirled with quick apologies, but before he could manage to squeeze anything out besides stutters, she responded. "You've been speaking to Elora, then." Neither of them spoke for some time, to Alistair, it felt like ages as Noelle stared towards the flaps of the tent. For some time, he had thought she was going to leave without another word. "And it seems like you saw that little discussion with Merena, hm?"

Alistair froze and stared up at the elf with a slacked jaw. She hadn't been considering leaving, she was watching between the flaps as he had done only a few moments previously. He sat up and groaned, half waiting for her to throw the bowl onto his face. "I guess I don't really have an excuse, do I? I'm not sorry I listened in, if you're looking for me to apologize." he looked up at her and saw her dark blue eyes staring back at his. For a moment, he was lost in them, flecks of gold dancing amongst the sea of blue. Alistair felt his stomach clench, not unpleasantly, as he realized this was the first time their eyes had met in the weeks he had been there. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he continued. "I appreciate what you said."

Noelle took in a deep breath before looking to the bowl, tapping it's edge on the nightstand before she stood, striding over to the entrance of the tent. "I, I have to be awake before the sun rises, I really should be going-"

"Must be hard."

"I-what must be hard?" she blinked back at him.

Alistair nodded slightly towards her sagging shoulders. "Carrying an entire settlement on your back."

Noelle looked back at him, looking as though she was pondering something. What it was, he may never know, but it took her a good long time before she replied. "I'm the only one that can."

* * *

It was late afternoon before Noelle got back from her hunt, which proved nearly fruitless. A few fat birds was slung over her shoulder and a few healing herbs poked from the small brown sack at her side. Despite the increasingly difficult time she was having, what with most of the animals fleeing north and the plantlife dying from the taint, she refused to come back to the village empty handed. Her legs ached beneath her, having walked the distance from one coast of Ferelden to the other in a matter of a few days.

First things first, she dropped off the birds near the best cook in their settlement, a middle-aged elf with an old scar on his chin. He smiled and nodded once, saying a few words of thank you as she continued towards the healers. Her face hardened, seeing more of the sick had died, but not as many as their had been in the beginning. She asked, in their language, where her mother was, the other healer pointing to Alistair's tent.

As Noelle stepped closer, she heard hushed voices behind it before pushing open the flaps, both Merena and Elora standing over Alistair, who sat on the side of the bed.

"Oh thank the Creator you're here, Noelle," Merena gasped dramatically, "your pet is making ridiculous requests!"

Noelle glared slightly at Merena, rubbing the back of her neck in exhaustion before looking to Alistair, noting that Elora stayed silent in the corner. "What's this all about, Warden?"

Alistair held up his hands, as though he had explained this numerous times and probably had. "I just asked my wet nurse if it would be at all possible if I could help you."

Noelle raised her eyebrow as Merena shook her head, looking down at Alistair. "Help me with what, exactly?"

"With hunting, gathering, hell, whatever else it is you do all day." Alistair watched as an amused smile started to cross Noelle's face, as though she was straining not to laugh. "Look, I can't be harmed by the taint, worse come to worse, I could keep you safe from darkspawn."

Merena threw her hands up. "Ridiculous! Mother, you cannot possibly be expecting me to agree to this! A human, walking around amongst us? It's bad enough that we have a half-breed in our midst, but this is too much!" She ignored the irate glare from Noelle, which Alistair couldn't help but notice.

After a moment, the old elf stood from her seat, looking over her two daughters and the young man before her. "Merena, I am not going to tell you what to do, you are Keeper, and I have deigned you as such. But as your mother, I can tell you what you should do. And my daughter," she turned to look at Merena again. "you would be a fool to turn down help in this time of crisis. Look at your sister, even the healing of our best cannot help how worn she looks." Her old eyes closed, knowing the rage rising in her birth daughter. "We need all the help we can get."

Merena's face contorted into a snarl as she spun to Noelle, attempting to stare a dagger into her face with her eyes. "Lucky you, _SARN, _you get what you want once again. As soon as our people are strong enough to move once again, you won't be coming with us."

Elora opened her mouth, barely uttering Merena's name before her eldest stormed out of the tent. Her mother turned to Noelle, nodding once as if to say 'I'll talk to her' before she exited as well, leaving the two alone.

Noelle looked down at him in amazement. "Warden-"

Alistair frowned. "Stop calling me that. My name is Alistair and this is the least I could do."

Noelle rubbed the back of her head as she laughed unbelievingly, turning towards the entrance of the tent. "You have no idea what you just signed up for, Alistair. Rest up."


End file.
